Not The Words I'd Use
by gypsywoman1
Summary: It's Sam's turn to be described in detail...;


A/N: So, I did a Dean one, now here is the Sam one. I did it for Stephanie, by best friend in the whole world along with the many others out there that I have talked with. This one is for her and all the Sam girls. There is a little inside joke in there that Sharae, Stephanie and myself have. You might realize something funny in the "mid section" and that's it. Anyways, hope you like.

There were many words to describe an object, person, or a place. I never knew I could put anything into a depth of massive detail, especially in a story. Considering I'm an author and I an author needs at least experience, or one good piece of practice in the descriptive area of things, so I decided it was best to give it a try.

Here I was, walking the streets into a parking lot of a run down motel far away from civilization. I began to wonder how anyone could stand being so secluded from things, people, and life itself, yet I also could see an argument beginning to form in my head between me and the willing person to prove a point.

Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of something turning the corner and down the small, narrow walkway by the other room doors. He was completely oblivious to me and seemed so focused on the leather bound journal in his hands. This man appeared to be a suitable specimen for my practice, and I began to watch intently as I took a seat in the grass a ways away.

Few words could even begin to explain, paint and take form of this stranger. However, I needed more than just _a few_, so I concentrated, taking in his profile by starting at the bottom. Shoes brown, sporty, although stylish and sensible, taking the lightest steps on the ground before lifting off again. His steps slow, unsure, and wavering, showing his full attention was on something else and more important compared to walking.

My eyes traveled upwards where they met endless tree stems covered in jeans and disguised as legs controlling his forward movement. Nothing graceful about it, but it amazed how he wasn't struggling like a newborn foal. The image and scenario of Bambi's first time on ice came into play, and I didn't understand the reason as to why he wasn't mirroring it. A work of pure art he was for accomplishing the impossible at his extreme height, should I applaud?

I giggled. Imagine what that would look like if he glanced around to see what was going on.

Continuing on my observation, I halted at his torso. Peeking just at the brim of his pants and button up striped white shirt were his blue boxers in all their manly glory. Clothing riding up just a bit to reveal more of the concealed and hopeful to escape, making my breath catch in my lungs at the sight of tanned skin. Abs rock hard, visibly trying to be known through the layers of shirts he was accommodating and I desperately wanted to see more; to rip the offending material away for better view and feel of the molded steel.

He defined every aspect of beauty, perfection, and a black smith's smooth toned deadly sword. I could physically imagine my hands meeting the surface of the magnetic wonder, electrifying my senses to the fullest and most ravenous high. It was like a battle had taken place upon his upper body, seeing how the two army generals and drill sergeants planned out the land of skin to be forever marked, creased, and remembered as a new written history. A lot of men and heavy artillery had gone to great lengths to create such a masterpiece. I suddenly had a craving for waffles and wasn't sure why…

Leaving that part to roll down his arms—equally great and mapped as his torso—unwillingly and to his hands lightly…carefully…holding the leather book like a delicate fragile child. Those hands were huge; long fingers worn at the prints from hard work and weapon handling. How I knew about that part stunned me immensely, however there was just something that told me he wasn't a creep, but a good guy, so the weapon knowledge washed over me calmly, and filled me with relaxation and peace.

I saved the best for last. My gaze reached his neck, connecting to the strong, well cut and carved jaw line. The faint indication of a cleft chin popping out to me to take in and store, while I traveled—journeyed—to another world completely, pausing at his lips. They weren't plump and full, instead innocent and story telling.

There were words that had been spoken from them that were strong, meaningful and thought out whole-heartedly. Imagination quickly telling me the texture was soft and supple; holding a secret; deeper powerful passion within, waiting to be coaxed into the open onto a woman whose heart, mind, body, and soul asked for it.

He was the type to make a woman feel…know…that she was worthwhile without the one nightstand implication. He wanted more than that; a relationship that was committed, concrete, and set in stone as he was. Going past the petite medium nose into those blue-green soul-stealing eyes…there was a loss and fright that he might lose another woman like he's lost many in his life previous to now.

My heart broke instantly at the puppy dog orbs, so much was pouring from those eyes; many burdens; love and pain. Without thinking clearly, I stood—ignoring the ache in my leg muscles from being in that position long—and walked up to him. He didn't even have time to know what was going on or see me coming at him as I embraced him in the meaningful hug.

"You'll be fine," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears.

"Um…okay…"

Pulling away I rested my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and stare into his eyes, his longish brown hair framing the confusion as I silently told him that I knew and he didn't have to be scared.

"My name is Stephanie," I introduced, "but you can call me Steph."

"Sam," he paused, "Wanna tell me why you did what you did?" I noticed him blushing a little and I smiled, feeling heat rush to my own cheeks.

"Not that it wasn't nice," he interjected hurriedly, "just…it's not everyday I get hugged randomly by a girl."

"Sorry for that Sam. Listen, it's hard to explain, but maybe we can get some coffee and discuss it." He nodded in reply as we went down the street I had come down earlier that evening, to the local coffee shop. I should really do these practices in detail more often. Then again…not the words I'd use to state that was what I was doing. Practices? I think not.

_-Fini_

Author End Note: Thanks for reading. Catch the Waffle bit? Lol. You'd have to be there to FULLY understand how it became inside joke and all. The story behind it is hilarious and completely die hard laughing material. Again, thanks for reading and please review.


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